Escape
by nazzymcc
Summary: The beginning of a journey, in the dead of night.


There were voices on the other side of the door, male and female, speaking in Elvish, but Anna understood enough of the words to feel guilty for overhearing.

"We have to get her out of here, Eirla."

"But how will we? They'll be looking for us, Aron. Where can we go?"

There was a long silence, and then – "I…I don't know yet."

Anna winced. Her arms were beginning to ache from holding the tray, but she couldn't bring herself to set it down and knock. She knew now why Sir Aron and Lady Eirla had called for tea so late. Sweet Chauntea, this meant the belowstairs rumors were true. The Separatists were on the move.

It wasn't fair. She liked the esquire and his lady; she'd been in service with them for nearly four years, and she felt safe in claiming them as decent folk, if a little odd in their ways. But then, they weren't wholly human, so that was to be expected. They were generous with their servants, and fair to their tenants. It wasn't their fault they'd chosen the losing side in this stupid civil war.

There were tears in Lady Eirla's voice. "She's ten years old. She doesn't deserve this."

Gods, this was going to be awkward, but the tea was just getting cold. Anna set down the tray and hesitantly knocked. And after a silence just long enough to make her wonder if she should turn and go, Sir Aron opened the door.

If not for his ears, one would confidently call him human. He was tall, barrel-chested, with bright blue eyes and a neatly trimmed brown beard. But he looked tired, deflated; he was a man dangling at the end of a short rope. Frost crept into Anna's belly, covering her insides like a window on a snowy night. It must be worse than even the rumors had said.

Behind him, Lady Eirla sat slumped on a low stool, an image of defeat. She was tall and slim, olive-skinned and dark of hair and eye. Her elven blood was far more pronounced than Sir Aron's, but only so much as it lent her an exotic air. She stood when she saw Anna in the door, smoothing her skirts distractedly. Anna swallowed. Seeing them at loose ends was almost unbearable. They were clever and wise. They weren't supposed to be out of options.

She produced the tea tray with a half-hearted air, and was about to withdraw quietly, when she said, without thinking, "I'm very sorry, sir, my lady…I overheard. Is it…is it really so bad?"

Sir Aron's brow darkened, and for an instant she was sure he would rightly chastise her, but then he simply nodded. "An advance force of the main Separatist army will be here by noon tomorrow. You should go, Anna. I've already spoken to Mistress Nyla; she's probably already passing the word with the rest of the servants to leave now. While you all still can."

"But what about you, sir? You and her ladyship and the young miss? Shouldn't you flee as well?"

Sir Aron swallowed, but it was Lady Eirla who spoke, her voice soft with suppressed tears. "We don't have anywhere else to go, Anna. Not anymore."

Light shone on the matter, as from an opened curtain. With no one to consider but themselves, Sir Aron and Lady Eirla would gladly die here, in their home, strong in their convictions to the last. But they had someone else to consider – their daughter, their heir and only child. What would become of her?

An idea bloomed in her mind, and Anna spoke it before she lost her courage. "I could take her. The young miss. My sister is a druid in the Waterdance Grove. She'd be safe there."

The esquire's face did not lighten. "That is leagues from here, Anna. And you're barely older than her yourself."

"I'm sixteen, sir!"

Lady Eirla pulled her heavily fringed shawl tighter around her shoulders, her forehead creased thoughtfully. "But the druids are neutral, Aron. No one would dare to attack a grove."

Sir Aron's voice rose. "I will not send two children into the night alone!" He heaved a pained sigh, and folded his arms around his wife. Anna suddenly felt like even more of an intruder. "But they'd safer without us, wouldn't they? By Corellon, Eirla," he said softly, "what kind of world has it become when a child is safer without her parents?"

Anna looked hard at her feet as Lady Eirla murmured, "One that can only get better, I should think."

The silence spread through the room, and Anna refused to raise her head until Sir Aron quietly said her name. He and Lady Eirla had parted, but his arm was still firmly around her waist. "Wake her, please," he said, in the clench-jawed tone of one struggling to keep his voice steady. "Tell her we'd like to speak with her."

Anna bobbed a half-curtsy, and withdrew as quickly as her feet would carry her.

The bedroom in question was just down the hall, and Anna opened the door slowly, loathe to wake the sleeping girl. She favored her mother strongly, with her gently canted eyes, and long, elvish face. She would be beautiful someday, but for now, she was ten years old, and when she woke, her world would be changed forever. Anna swallowed the lump in her throat, and gently shook the sleeper's shoulder.

"Jaheira," she whispered. "Wake up. Your mother and father want to see you."


End file.
